


Fangirls

by Sara_Ellison



Series: Truth In Fandom [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fandom, M/M, Meta, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sara_Ellison/pseuds/Sara_Ellison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crazy fangirls, dude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fangirls

The diner was nearly empty. So was the town; from time to time, a car would roll lazily down the street, or a person would walk by on his way to some errand, but today the populace was largely staying indoors. It was no wonder why: at nine in the morning, it was already 80 degrees Fahrenheit and climbing, with not a cloud to be seen. The plate glass windows offered no protection from the sun, which reflected off the white plastic countertop, making it almost too bright to look at. Dean was beginning to sweat; with the sun at his back, just about the only shade was his and Sam's shadows in front of them.

The only other patrons that morning were a couple girls seated at the booth behind them. They were in their early twenties, Dean guessed, and since he and Sam had walked in the girls had not raised their voices above a stage whisper, though they talked constantly. Their food was nigh untouched. Dean was mildly fascinated by the flow of their unceasing conversation; when one girl stopped for breath, her friend would pick up the thread and talk until _she_ ran out of air, whereupon her companion would resume.

The sole waitress set their food in front of them with a shy smile. She wore her frizzy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, though she looked like she would rather hide behind it. Her roots were growing out, Dean noticed. She refilled his coffee mug and left. When she turned away, he saw that a streak of her hair had been dyed incongruously bright purple.

Beside him, Sam was amusing himself by moving his hand in and out of his own shadow, watching the edge of sunlight cut across his fingers. "It's like five degrees hotter in the sun," he said. "You can feel it. Paper said it's supposed to hit 100 today."

"Ugh," Dean commented. _Not_ the kind of day he wanted to spend digging up a grave and lighting anything on fire, but he didn't have much choice. He pushed at his scrambled eggs with the back of his fork, listening to what snatches of the girls' conversation he could hear. " _...lonely...sweet together...angel._ "

Dean froze, a forkful of corned beef hash halfway to his mouth. It could be a completely irrelevant conversation. "Angel" could be a term of endearment for whoever they were talking about. It didn't necessarily refer to one of the Host of Heaven. He listened harder.

"But what about Sam?" one of the girls was whispering. "I just don't think Dean would be..." Her voice dropped below Dean's range of hearing.

 _Shit._ Dean knocked his knee against Sam's to get his attention and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Code pink. Fucking _fangirls._ "

"No, dude," Sam answered, cool and reasonable, "code pink is just if they know who we are. Right now, we're just a couple dudes eating breakfast. We've got nothing to worry about." He dipped a corner of his toast into the puddle of egg yolk on his plate.

A sudden bang made Dean jump, whipping his head around to find the source of the sound so fast he nearly fell off his seat. One of the fangirls had slammed her hand on the table to make a point, rattling the cutlery, and hissed emphatically at her friend, "You can't tell me that Dean isn't in love with Castiel!"

"Okay, that's it," Dean said loudly. Sam made an exasperated noise and grabbed Dean's arm, but he shook him off as he swiveled off his seat to confront the girls. "Dean is _not_ in love with Castiel!"

Both girls had shrunk away, wide-eyed, but the one with the short red hair drew herself up a little and said, "There are more kinds of love than just between a man and a woman. Just because you aren't familiar with it doesn't make it any less legitimate."

Dean closed his eyes and counted, very quickly, to ten. "Holy shit, is that _ever_ beside the point. Look." He took a deep breath, calming himself with a great effort. "I don't care if you think that I--that Dean is gay, straight, or a fucking furry for that matter. But leave Cas out of your fandom fantasies, okay? Cas and Dean are not a _couple_. Castiel is an angel of the Lord, not a plaything for your perverted imaginings!"

The skinny blonde, who up until now had been trembling in terror at Dean's outburst, squeaked out, "How is love perverted?"

"It doesn't have to be sexual," her friend added. "You seem to be familiar with the books. Can you deny that Dean and Castiel have a deep bond, at least equal to, if different in nature, from the bond he shares with Sam?"

"Not necessarily," the blonde put in, and the redhead turned to look at her as though she'd just been stabbed in the back. "I mean, not necessarily different in nature," she hastened to add.

"No," Dean said, "no, no, hell no. I _know_ you are not going to suggest what I think you are suggesting. If Dean isn't in love with Castiel, he sure as _hell_ isn't in love with his own _brother_."

The redhead cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "Sam and Dean have died for each other. They have literally gone to Hell for each other, sold their souls for each other. And you're maintaining that that's nothing more than a run-of-the-mill brotherly relationship?"

"She has a point, Dean," Sam put in mildly.

Dean turned to stare at him. His brother was wearing a casual trying-very-hard-not-to-laugh sort of smirk. "What the fuck, exactly, are you saying, Sammy?"

The blonde girl squeaked. She and her friend had gone back to staring wide-eyed. The redhead mouthed _Dean, Sammy_ , and Dean silently cursed. _Now_ it was a code pink, but there was no getting the djinn back in the bottle now.

"I'm saying they're right," Sam said, at which point Dean became convinced he was insane because he had to be hallucinating. "You went to Hell for me, Dean, but Castiel pulled you out. That's got to mean something." He spread his hands, all wide-eyed innocence. "Cas is in love with you, Dean."

The blonde was still squeaking. Dean turned back to her, thinking perhaps to laugh it off, make like Sam was only joking. The redhead was grinning at Sam like Christmas had come early. Her friend was making unintelligible sounds that might almost have been words, but in fangirl-speak they were meaningless to normal humans.

Dean was still frantically searching for something to say when he heard a soft flutter of wings behind him, and the fangirl's squeaks transformed into outright screams. Wincing, he turned to confront the hapless angel. "Public places!" he shouted at Cas over the shrieks. "Haven't we talked about not materializing in front of strangers like this?"

"My ears were burning," Castiel replied, then clarified, "Not literally." He turned his head to show his ears, whole and unburnt. "I heard my name, several times."

"Yeah? What else did you hear?" Dean asked, slightly hoarsely. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Did Cas even understand the concept of fanfiction?

"Nothing," Cas answered, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "I wasn't listening, but my name caught my attention."

Sam slid off his seat at the counter, and slid an arm around Castiel's waist. The angel looked even more confused than he usually did, and the fangirls fell abruptly, blissfully silent.

"These lovely ladies think you and Dean are in love with each other," Sam explained, "but I know you would never cheat on me with my brother. Isn't that right, baby?" He kissed Cas on the temple.

Sam _kissed_ Castiel. On the temple, but still, _Sam just kissed Cas._ Dean realized his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. He pinched himself. "Ow," he said, then added, "fuck." He did not appear to be having a horrible nightmare after all.

"Right," Cas said, sounding even more confused than he looked, "baby." He leaned up and kissed Sam full on the mouth. Sam made a muffled sort of squeaking sound, wrapped his other arm around Cas, and kissed back.

"Excuse us," the redheaded girl whispered, "we have some fic to write." She and her friend scooted out of the booth and ran out of the diner like the Devil was on their heels.

Dean found his voice. "What the fuck?" he demanded. His brother and his angel were still kissing. No, they weren't just kissing, now, they were making out. Dean felt a little sick, like his ribcage was trying to squeeze his heart to death. "What the actual fuck?" he shouted, and they broke apart.

Sam laughed. He actually had the balls to _laugh_ , even if he did look a little guilty. Cas just looked dazed, in a contented sort of way.

"So how long has this been going on?" Dean asked, forcibly calm.

"Since about a minute ago," Sam said, grinning.

"Despite appearances, I am not engaged in a torrid love affair with your brother," Castiel explained.

"Okay," Dean said, his voice sounding a little too loud in his ears, "why the gay makeout, then?"

"Saved you, didn't I," Sam said. "You heard those girls, they're writing fanfic about me and Cas. They won't be shipping you with either of us, now."

A snort of laughter made Dean jump. He'd forgotten about the frizzy-haired waitress, lurking at the end of the counter. "It doesn't work like that," she said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but canon has little bearing on what people ship. I don't know or care if any of you are sleeping together, but you can bet there's fic about all of you. Every possible permutation."

"Oh," Sam said. "Well, I guess there wasn't really a point to the gay makeout, then." He did not look at all remorseful. Bizarrely, his hand was still resting on Castiel's waist.

"It got rid of the fangirls, at least," Dean pointed out, and frowned. "They didn't pay for their meal."

"I guess that was my fault," Sam said, contrite, glancing at the waitress. "I can take care of that."

She shook her head. "No need. I'll catch up with them later. They'll probably come back in to show me their fanfic, anyway."

Dean shifted his weight awkwardly. "Okay," he said, "just us, then. How much do we owe you?" He dug in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a credit card.

"Cash only," the waitress said.

Dean frowned at the sticker on the cash register, bearing the logos of all the major credit cards the diner accepted. "Um," he said.

She grinned and tapped the silvery plastic with a fingernail. "You're Dean. He's Sam. You think I'm going to take a credit card that belongs to--" she glanced at the name on it-- "Hubert Cumberdale? Nice try."

Grumbling, Dean pulled out a twenty. "Keep the change." He turned back to his brother, who for some Godforsaken reason seemed to have his hand in the pocket of Castiel's trenchcoat. "Come on, Sammy, we got bones to burn."

"Good luck with the ghost," the waitress called after them as they stepped out the door into the blistering morning heat. "And enjoy the gay makeouts!"

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse. I was amused by its presumption.


End file.
